Growing up
by rosehill
Summary: There are things a twelve-year-old needs to know.


Synopsis: oneshot. There are things a twelve-year-old needs to know.

Disclaimer: not mine, belongs to Marvel and so on.

_Growing up_

So, this is what my blood looks like. I had never _ever_ considered that I could bleed one day. The boys sometimes get hurt during the training sessions or get colds or other diseases. I was never hurt. _Never_. And I was so proud of it…

Well, I should have thought this was bound to happen. One year ago, Tony knocked at my door and told me there were things a girl my age should know. Then he gave me a little pink book called '_Sex ed for girls'_, and then he left the room hurriedly, as if the book was about to explode. I started reading it and I wondered if this was a joke or not. So I had something called a 'womb' that was supposed to bleed every month? Creepy.

On the other hand, I had already noticed the slight bumps on my chest, so maybe my body had already started to change. Maybe this was true, I had indeed a womb, ovaries, and I was supposed to do something called 'sexual intercourse' one day. Oh, I didn't like it at all. Inserting a… thing into another… thing seemed both rude and pointless, really. So I pushed the idea aside. Maybe Asgardian women didn't have periods, after all. Maybe only the mortals were affected.

But I'm bleeding now and I have to do something before the sheets are damaged beyond repair. It's late at night and the boys are all in their bungalows so I have to knock at Tony's door and ask him for… oh, I won't be able to tell him. Oh, yes, I HAVE to tell him! I must get a grip on myself, this can't be worse that fighting enemies!

I'm entering his room now. He puts a book on a shelve and asks me why I'm here. Suddenly, my voice sounds weird.

"I need the key of the material room."

Maybe I shouldn't have said this. None of us is allowed to enter the material room alone, after all. He gets suspicious.

"OK," he says, "and why do you need this key?"

He sounds as if he expects me to steal something for a silly prank. I must look more convincing.

"I need to take something. Please, Tony, it's important."

"Just tell me what you need. I'll bring it back for you."

"OK, I need some… t.a.m.p.o.n.s."

I'm blushing madly now and I hate it. Asgardians are not supposed to blush! He looks embarrassed for a moment, and then he gets up.

"Well, there is s.o.m.e. in the material room, indeed. C.o.m.e. with me. I'm pretty sure Jan and Tasha made something r.e.a.d.y."

He's joking about it! Well, it could have been worse, really. Now I'm following him into the room. There are dozens and dozens of piles of big boxes. He searches for a moment, and then he stops in front of a pile. I read the words in front of one of the boxes: '_girl stuff'_. Well…

"Take one into your room, it will be more practical", he says.

I nod and I fly back into my bungalow, hugging the box. I feel both silly and grateful to Tony for not opening the box in front of me. I lock my door and then I start examining the content of it. There are dozens of brightly colored little cardboard boxes and funny plastic bags, and even some weird-looking underwear. I've never seen those kinds of things before. And there's a letter. Wait, who could write to me?

_Dear Torunn,_

_If you read this letter, it will mean that Natasha, Pepper, Wanda, Carol, Bobbi, me and even your mom are all unavailable. I hope it won't happen but as Tony says, we must all be prepared for the worst. I'm Janet Pym, Henry's mom._

The Pixie! Why did she write to me? Why her?

_When I was twelve, my mom and other women explained me things I needed to know. I guess I have to explain them to you too as every girl in the world should know about them._

I expect the same technical descriptions as in Tony's pink book but I read surprising things instead. Some sentences are a bit disturbing, some others are really comforting.

_Some boys think their sexual organs are better than ours but they are completely wrong. We can make a baby grow inside us and that's the biggest privilege ever. Some men even envy us._

Wow. I had never considered pregnancies this way. Up to know, I always thought it was just binding and embarrassing.

_Don't worry about your boobs size: big or small just doesn't matter. Be careful to pick a bra that isn't too small or too big for them._

Thank you very much; I'll do that as soon as I know what boobs are and what a bra is. These are really funny names.

_The first time is important. Don't do it if you don't feel ready, even if the boy (or girl) insists a lot._

Is she talking about sharing toys or about something else?

I read and read and I don't understand everything but this is probably the most reassuring thing I ever read. I don't remember ever talking with a woman. I was always _the girl_ in the group, the one who couldn't relate with an older being and ask this person for specific advice. James, Azari and Pym have Tony and I have… well, I have Tony too. He's great but he's no mother to me. For the first time ever, I feel… oh, I don't know how I feel exactly.

_Just now you four are all cute, tiny little kids playing in their room and it breaks my heart to think that I might not be able to see you grow up. I wish you will all grow brave and strong. Torunn, you'll probably be twelve when you read this letter if you read it one day, and my baby will be ten. I know I'm not supposed to ask this from a child, I know we're not even related but please, take care of my son. Be a good sister._

There are lines and lines of kind words and wishes for the future and it looks as if tears fell onto the paper ten years ago. I'm crying, too. This woman, Janet Pym née Van Dyne, Wasp, the Pixie, she wrote this long, comforting letter to me _even though she's not my mom_. Then she died. She didn't see her own baby grow up. She sacrificed her own life so her son could live. I have a mother and she's alive and kicking but she didn't even bother to drop by on my birthdays or to warn me about my first periods, even though she could. She's being ignoring me since I was two and I don't even remember her face. Why? Why do nice people die? _Why was I born from the wrong mother?_

I punch the wall in rage. This is so unfair! Then I remember that Tony hates it when I make holes in the walls. Tony is the closest thing I currently have to a father so I shouldn't upset him. He might reject me, too.

I sit down, I wipe my tears and I realize that I shouldn't think bad things about my mother. This is… this is blasphemy. She's a goddess, after all, so I shouldn't… oh, I don't know how I should think. Maybe I should stop crying now: Asgardians never cry, after all. I splash cold water onto my face and then I take care of the sheets of my bed and everything else. Then I sit down again and I try to think about. I've never prayed my mother, after all. It's always Thor who gets all the prayers because I've heard of him a lot more. Perhaps I should pray the Lady Sif, too. But what could I say?

Someone's knocking at the door. I wipe my face once more, I open and I find myself in front of Tony, again. Wow. He hasn't visited me at night since I was eight.

"Hi, he says. There's a hole in your wall."

"Oh. Sorry", I answer. "I just…"

"Well, you know where the tools are, don't you?"

I nod. That's one of his upbringing methods: if you break something, just fix it if you can. I have already been repairing so many things that I lost the count.

"May I come in?" he asked embarrassedly.

I nod and step aside just before I remember all the little tampon boxes and sanitary things bags that are spread over the floor. This is getting _really_ awkward. He pretends he doesn't see them and we both sit onto the bed. He has the same look on his face as when he gave me that pink book, except that he looks as if _I _was going to explode now. I wish I knew what to say.

"Are you all right?" he asks.

"I'm fine", I lie slightly. "I just… didn't expect it now, that's all."

"Well… congratulations."

Congratulations? That's definitely the last thing I expected! It's so silly, congratulating someone on being able to bleed but at the same time, it's just nice and comforting. Suddenly I feel so fond of him. My adoptive dad.

"I'm all right", I say again, hugging him.

He just pats my back. I still feel awkward but it's a better level of awkwardness. Then he gets up and walks to the door. Just before leaving, he adds in a matter-of-fact tone:

"You know, maybe you should have a try with your sword tomorrow again. Good night."

I wish him good night too and then I think about. Yes, I have this sword, a birth present from Asgard but I've never been able to lift it up to now. They say you cannot move it if you are not worthy of it. I never quite understood what it means. What kind of worth should I prove?

Maybe I should just accept that life is unfair. Maybe I should stop acting like a kid. Maybe growing up means stopping relying on Tony and on prayers. Maybe being a true Asgardian means protecting one's loved ones and accepting responsibilities without asking for anything in return, just like Thor did when he decided to protect Midgard. Maybe I'm ready for my sword now.

Tomorrow, I'll have a try.

_The end!_


End file.
